


Forward Motion

by Bunnyhops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnyhops/pseuds/Bunnyhops
Summary: She’d loved him for as long as she could remember; would their pride get in the way of true love?





	

_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing_.

“I’m not happy.”

 

It was delivered without emotion; a quiet and flat tone that left her feeling bereft. She loved him; had loved him for as long as she could remember.

 

She had first seen him on her very first day in her new world. He was in the enchanted boat in front of hers, where they had gathered at the large man’s instruction as they stepped off the train. The boy’s dark hair and pale skin were in direct contrast to the two boys he was sitting near: a blond boy, who was almost as cute as he was, and who was wearing a mischievous smirk; and a dark skinned boy who she would describe as beautiful. The last person in the boat was a pug-nosed, brunette girl staring at the blond; other than the girl, they all seemed to be enthralled with the chubby boy speaking.

 

She wanted to smile with the small group riding in that boat, they looked like they were having fun, but instead, her boat was silent and uncertain.

 

The dark-haired boy shifted his expression, meeting her eyes briefly. He had nodded at her in greeting, stealing a little bit of her heart then. That was before her blood status was known, of course. Before things had gone all sixes and sevens.

 

He hadn’t acknowledged her at all from the point when the Sorting Hat called out: ‘Gryffindor!’ and she’d hopped down to sit with her new house mates. At the Gryffindor table, she’d glanced his way out of curiosity, after she’d sat, but he hadn’t been paying attention; hadn’t paid attention the remainder of her education; even when Malfoy had taunted and teased and goaded, Theo hadn’t ever engaged, nor had he focused on her for any amount of time.

 

Still, Hermione protected and nurtured her crush on him; she was enthralled by his intelligence, his beauty, his subtle masculinity. She remembered he’d brushed past her once in the library, and in his wake, the scent of Myrrh drifted around her.   It was refined, elusive, quiet, and intoxicating – like he was.

 

“Hermione?” he reminded her that they were still standing there, facing each other; him waiting for her reaction; her remembering.

 

Theo knew he shouldn’t have said it like that. He had had a bad day; partly due to his mother and partly because Malfoy had been teasing him about not asking Hermione to marry him. Malfoy couldn’t be blamed though, he’d been correct. Theo was a coward. He wanted to marry Hermione, but he was afraid to ask her. He’d been carrying around his grandmother’s ring for months, waiting for the right time, but it never seemed to arrive.  

 

Hermione’s eyes shot to his. “Right,” she said, uncertain about what to do.

 

She wanted to beg and plead and sob. She wanted to pour out her heart to him, ask him to spend the rest of his life with her, but her pride wouldn’t allow it. She stood stock still, and swallowed then nodded in concession. “Right,” she repeated in a whisper.

 

Furrowing her brow, she studied her shoes for a moment before arriving at the only decision she could, “I’ll just get my things.” Her breath hitched slightly at the end and she prayed he hadn’t heard.

 

Theo watched her back straighten, her chin jut and her eyes fill with tears as she turned and walked out of the room to ‘get her things’. He didn’t know what to say or do; he was shocked by her reaction.

 

Hermione was the only witch he’d ever loved. She was everything he had ever wanted, but they had been arguing… again. They usually argued about her reluctance to move in with him, her reluctance to admit that she wanted to marry, her reluctance to just be happy in the knowledge that he loved her and no one else.

 

 

The underlining bone of contention on his part was that she didn’t trust him with her heart. It was something he desperately wanted; her heart, her trust. Early on in their relationship, one mistake had solidly landed him in the not-to-be-trusted category in Hermione’s mind; and it wasn’t even his mistake.

 

A house mate, a witch two years younger than Theo and Hermione, had grown into a lovely young woman and had arrogantly assumed Theo wouldn’t decline her rather obvious invitation.

 

He had, but not before Hermione had seen Maggie Bulstrode sitting on his lap, pushing his head into her ample bosom.

 

Theo had pushed the girl off his lap. Maggie ended up on her bum in a graceless landing that had the table chuckling at her predicament. Theo sneered at her and left. He knew her reputation; her knees didn’t spend much time together. Besides, he only had eyes for the pretty little witch he was currently wooing.

 

As Theo turned away from the table, he caught a glimpse of Hermione’s unmistakable curls rounding the corner and had run after her.

 

Hermione never outwardly said she didn’t trust him after he’d explained, but it was in the way she spoke, how aloof she was, which even Draco and Blaise had noticed.  

 

That was three years ago.

 

Whenever Hermione and Theo were together, on the weekends mostly, they laughed and talked and read and couldn’t be parted for a moment. It was heavenly and Theo knew that it wouldn’t ever end if they married, but now, as his heart sank, he wasn’t certain.

 

“Hermione,” he called, his body jumping into motion to prevent her from leaving. Hermione was stubborn and if she left, he knew that it would mean she’d do everything she could to avoid him. She wouldn’t take his Floo calls, she wouldn’t respond to owls… nothing.

 

“No, Theo, it’s all right. I understand.”

 

He closed his eyes, praying for patience. “Hermione, I don’t want you to leave.”

 

Hermione looked at him, his slumped shoulders, his tired face. He was only doing this because he felt guilty, she thought.

 

To try to ease his guilt, she smiled. “Theo, it’s okay. I’m glad you told me how you feel.”

Theo just stared at her and then the rage came crashing down on him. She never believed him. No matter what he said or what he did, she just gave him ‘the look’. It was her expressions that said, ‘ _aren’t you sweet, but stop fibbing_.’

 

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. “Damn it, Hermione! Why can’t you just –“ He couldn’t think of the word he wanted to use.

 

Hermione waited for him, her mind supplying all sorts of words: be prettier, more personable, less uptight, but she didn’t say any of them aloud.

 

She was confident in her abilities at work, confident with her intellect, secure in the knowledge that she’d been on the right side of the war and had acted in defense of herself and others. She knew she wasn’t cruel or mean-spirited, and she tried to be a compassionate and understanding human being, but years of being called Mudblood and having the entirety of the wizarding community look down on her had left her a bit gun-shy and slightly insecure regarding her blood-status; not to mention the constant teasing about her hair, which she secretly loved now, and wore it long to express that hard-earned love.  

 

Hermione was defensive and easily riled; it was an armor that had more baggage under it than most realized. As a youth at Hogwarts during a war, she studied more and more about pureblood traditions and etiquette so that she could better understand the world she was in and why ‘they’ hated her so much.

 

Her gained knowledge of such things was compared to her boyfriend’s behavior throughout their relationship; his actions and non-actions left her off balance and confused. They were contradictory to proper pureblood courting. She had come to the conclusion that if she were a pureblood witch, their relationship would have been much different.

 

Unfortunately for Hermione, her insecurities had a very deep foundation.

 

Hermione knew she wasn’t ugly, she’d had some rough formative years, but now that she was a grown witch, she thought she was quite pretty. Hazel eyes that were expressive and just the right size, straight nose lightly freckled, full lips; her skin was clear and her body was slender, but fit.   She had nothing to be ashamed of; though she may not be the tall statuesque goddesses that plagued the tabloids, she made a conscience effort to be happy in her own skin.

 

She could list her best features, but if she ever began to believe them, Hermione would suddenly hear her mother’s voice in the recesses of her mind; ‘ _Hermione, I don’t understand. Your father is handsome and I was never without masculine company, what happened with you, dear?_ ’

 

Hermione hadn’t ever felt like men looked at her with any other sort of interest other than to pick her brain on topics that interested them. She saw the way wizards looked at pretty witches. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of Millicent Bulstrode and every time Hermione had seen the two together, they were holding hands or otherwise touching in some way.

 

Harry took Mills everywhere, showing her off to the world, and looking like he felt like he was the luckiest wizard.

 

Thankfully, Mills had grown into her large eyes and broad shoulders. She was quite exotic looking…and then there was her younger sister, Maggie. Hermione sneered and refused to go there.

 

Draco eyed every good-looking witch from here to America with lasciviousness. He’d never looked at Hermione in that manner. Not that she wanted wizards to treat her any less than she was or not respect her, but she had longed for just one wizard to look at her like she was his last meal.

 

That was until Theo had come along. They’d returned from an extended vacation after the war at around the same time; him from Greece and her from Spain, where she’d gone to recover and recuperate from the horrors of war. Her friends had visited often and she’d even made it to one or two Christmases with the Weasleys until she sat one Christmas and realized that all the Weasley’s were married with families. She’d looked around at the bent heads and smiling faces and felt like she had no place there.

 

Theo and Hermione had bumped into each other at a small outdoor café in Diagon Alley one morning. She’d ordered her usual and was about to pay when she realized that she’d forgotten her wallet. As soon as she’d opened her mouth to apologize profusely to the barista as well as the people behind her, a handsome wizard, one who looked all too familiar, stepped forward and placed two Galleons on the counter. “I’ll take the same,” he’d told the barista, paying for both.

His eyes met hers and she realized, with some amount of embarrassment, that he was looking at her like he liked the way she looked…very much.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Nott.”

 

“Theo. And you’re welcome. But now you owe me,” he’d teased with a smirk.

 

Trying her hand at flirting, she’d said, “What did you have in mind?” It came out a little snippy and she’d made a mental note to work on that.

 

She was rewarded with a full-on smile, coupled with the prettiest deep blue eyes she’d ever seen.

 

“You must accompany me to the back table, drink your coffee with me at a leisurely pace, and discuss meaningless topics that involve you telling me how incredibly handsome and debonair I am.”

 

Hermione had giggled. “Such a high price for a cup of coffee,” she’d responded.

 

“Well, I did come to your rescue,” he said as they sat on opposite sides of the small table in the back corner.

 

She was smiling as a mildly awkward silence fell in between them. He took a sip and gave in to his curiosity. “I heard you left after… well, after.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Yes. I went to Spain for University. Professor’s McGonagall and Flitwick wrote me letters of recommendation for Transfiguration and Charms, so I majored in both. You?”

 

“Sports Medicine with a minor in Business. I’m apprenticing in my father’s company.”

 

Hermione knew that Nott Industries dominated the field of Quidditch agents and talent discovery, but was surprised that her companion had opted to join the family business.

 

Theo read her expressions and smiled before responding to her unasked questions. “I wanted to broaden our horizons, if you will.”

 

Hermione finally got to use that smirk that she’d been yearning to since her first year. “So you have strong hands then?”

 

They’d laughed and spent the better part of the rest of the morning talking and getting to know each other. When a lull in the conversation occurred past noon, Hermione gathered her things. “I should go. Thank you for the coffee.”

 

“Have dinner with me.” It was a statement and not a question, but he was avoiding eye contact, which told her he wasn’t certain of her answer.

 

“Okay.”

 

His smile lit her world. “I’ll pick you up,” he said.

 

“I’ll meet you,” she replied.

 

Four years later, and Theo wasn’t happy.   Well, she wasn’t happy either. “Why can’t I just what, Theo?!” she shouted.

 

He made a hissing sound, one she recognized as an attempt to calm himself. “To be _reasonable_ , Hermione.”

 

Theo would forever kick himself for that statement. Never, never question Hermione’s ability to reason.

 

“You think I’m being _unreasonable_?” she asked. Her demeanor had changed from loud irritation and disappointment to outrage, though the only indicators were her magic crackling around her fingers and her hair beginning to stand on end.

 

Honesty – it’s overrated.

 

“Yes.”

 

Hermione nodded. With a wave of her hand, she shrunk a few items and called them to her. She stuffed them in her purse, thinking she would be back for the rest of it when he wasn’t here.

 

This was breaking her heart, but there were too many things that had built up over time that reflected Theo’s true feelings.

 

He never asked her to accompany him to any formal occasion, he wasn’t nearly as smitten as Harry, not that she expected a fairy tale, but a little adoration would be nice – she _had_ saved his hide after all! He would’ve been werewolf food if she hadn’t have stunned that grotesque Greyback fellow.

 

The incident with Maggie was a glaring indicator; and the fact that he’d asked her to move in with him. Pureblood’s didn’t ‘move in’ together without being married first. It just didn’t happen. And she was certain that if she’d been a pureblood, he would have asked her to wed, but he hadn’t and that was telling.

 

Hermione kept a few items at his flat, but hadn’t moved in.

 

They never did anything with his parents, even though he had Sunday brunch with his mother.

 

Given, Hermione understood that Theo was an only child and she admired the effort made by Theo and his mother to stay connected, but couldn’t he have invited Hermione just once? She wouldn’t have imposed on their time together, but she wanted to be included, or at least, given the option.

 

Hermione hadn’t ever met Theo’s father, and Theo didn’t speak of him.

 

Theo had suffered through dinner with Hermione’s parents a half dozen times and never complained.

 

Hermione herself disliked spending with her mum. Evelyn Granger hadn’t cottoned to the idea of magic and resented Hermione for having this gift. With comments like, ‘ _I_ _don’t know what makes you so special’_ and ‘ _All this special power has made you lazy and it shows…through your hips. Don’t want you to end up squatty like your aunt Matilda, Hermione_.’

 

Theo was angry the first time he’d heard Evelyn’s comments, but had remained stoic throughout the ordeal. Hermione had practically begged him with her eyes not to say a word about it, but when they’d arrived back at Hermione’s, he’d ranted about ‘that woman’, shouting how uncivilized Muggles were and how Muggles like her would never be accepted into wizarding society – with good reason.

 

He’d realized the implications of his words a few seconds later, but it was too late. He’d effectively insulted Hermione. Fast talking had conveyed his feeling that he didn’t think of her as a Muggle, that she was a witch and that was that, but it had taken a good fortnight for her to forgive him and speak to him again. He suspected that he’d insulted her again when he said he didn’t think of her as a Muggle, but she’d never said a thing about it and he didn’t want to press his luck when she’d let him into her house again.

 

She looked at Theo. He wasn’t looking at her. He had his eyes closed and his head tilted back. It looked like resigned acceptance.

 

“Good bye, Theo.” With a pop she was gone, leaving Theo to his solitude.   In that moment, he wished he’d done things differently. He was never good at conveying his feelings, unless something really upset him. He could list those things on two fingers: Hermione’s mother, and his father.

 

He’d cut all ties to his father, going as far as staging a coup to take control of Nott Industries.

 

He’d cast Pyxis Nott out with a majority vote from the board of directors. Theo now owned the company.

 

His mother had divorced Pyxis soon after, taking everything.

 

Elizabeth Nott had been the victim for too long and now she had a lifetime to make up to her son. They were slowly rebuilding their relationship with Sunday brunches.

 

Elizabeth knew her son was in love with Hermione Granger, but he didn’t speak of her. The only indications of his feelings were a small smile that played around his lips when asked about the illustrious Miss Granger. Elizabeth wondered why Theo never invited Hermione to lunch with them, but their relationship was still too tenuous for her to request a meeting.

 

Elizabeth had never liked the other witches her son dated; they were near vapid in her opinion.

 

The fact that Theo was courting Hermione Granger, brains of the Golden Trio, well, Elizabeth couldn’t wait to meet her. She just knew that Miss Granger was the perfect match for her son.

 

Theo inhaled and made his way to the Floo. “Malfoy,” he called.

 

Draco’s ashy representation appeared. “Nott.”

 

“Lunch?”   Theo asked.

 

Draco frowned. It was the tone of Theo’s voice or the fact that he rarely initiated a get together. “Shall I bring Zabini and bottle of father’s finest?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Theo stood up and shouted at the elves to make lunch.

 

A feast is what Blaise and Draco were graced with when they entered the dining room. The two men shared a look and moved to sit at the decorated dining table. Draco poured each a glass, and after pleasant greetings and avoidance of the topic of interest, they ate.

 

Blaise couldn’t eat another bite. The three had been talking about everything but what was bothering Theo. Blaise knew that since Hermione wasn’t here and since Theo hadn’t brought her up in conversation that they’d had an argument. And he was fairly certain it was a blow out considering the amount of food Theo had made available.

 

“The Ministry Ball is tonight,” Blaise said still playing along, hoping that he wouldn’t be completely sauced by the time Theo got to the point.

 

Draco nodded. “A Masquerade Ball,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

 

“Did you get a mask, mate?” Draco asked Theo, who wasn’t really participating in the conversation.

 

Theo nodded. “Phantom of the Opera.” Hermione’s favorite, he reminded himself.

 

“I purchased a Brazilian Carnival mask with gold leaf,” Blaise told them.  

 

Draco made a face that told Blaise he thought the Brazilian mask idea was gay.

 

Blaise stretched his lips in obvious disagreement, but then mentally conceded the point. The mask was terribly flamboyant and leaned towards gauche. It _was_ gay, he decided… but so was he.

 

“Mine is simple, refined, elegant - like me.” Both Theo and Blaise scoffed at this, making Draco smile.

 

“She left me.” It was a quiet statement, out of the blue.

 

“She’ll come back, mate. Sometimes witches just need their space,” Blaise assured as his arrogance had certainly landed him in the dog house more than once, but men were different from witches. All he’d ever had to do to seat him back at his lover’s side was to show just the right amount of aggression – gay men loved the Alpha male. Blaise wasn’t sure that witches, specifically Theo’s witch, would react favorably to this.

 

Theo shook his head. “No. She won’t,” he asserted.

 

“What prompted her departure, exactly?” Draco asked, needing to hear the gory details.

 

“I don’t know. We were arguing about why she wouldn’t move in. I told her I wasn’t happy. She, of course, took that to mean that I wasn’t happy with her and then I told her I wanted her to be reasonable-“

 

“You what?” Blaise asked with Draco shaking his head.

 

“I told her to be reasonable. I needed to talk to her, but she …I don’t know. Then she left.”

Blaise and Draco shared another look.   Draco opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Blaise just blinked, and then spoke, “So, you told the most logical witch on the planet to be reasonable?”

 

Theo winced. “Yes.”

 

Draco picked up where Blaise left off. “You also asked her to move in with you instead of marrying you.”

 

“Weren’t you looking at that cottage in Winchester for her?” Blaise asked.

 

Theo nodded, knowing how it sounded; he winced. He’d only asked her to move in because he had wanted to ease her into the idea of being with him and his personality quirks; to show her how wonderful they’d be together, not make her feel like a dirty little secret.

 

She was different than the other witches. She wasn’t raised here; she had a mind of her own and he found her incredibly sexy when she got flustered. Just thinking of her impassioned face while she paced and raged made his cock twitch.

 

Theo sighed and recognized where he went wrong. The three men drank the afternoon away, passing out on the floor of Theo’s study.

 

Blaise woke a few hours later, cursing at the time. Draco followed shortly, but before he Floo’d away, he called to Theo to wake up and get ready for the Ball.

 

(*)

 

Hermione settled down in her favorite chair and cried. Steady tears led to intermittent bouts of sobbing, which led to her current state of drowsy eyed drifting.

 

The last thing she heard was the chime of her grandmother’s grandfather clock.

 

The chime sounded again and she woke, feeling puffy faced and achy. It took her eyes a moment to focus on the time, but once they did, she jumped from the chair and headed for the shower to get ready for the Ball.  

 

(*)

 

Hermione was on autopilot, smiling and nodding when it was expected of her. Standing near the back cove of the ballroom, Hermione watched as the couples danced. Everyone looked beautiful.

 

Hermione had chosen a rich crimson silk sheathe dress with a split up the side. It was simple gown she’d seen in the window of Twilfitt and Tattings.

 

Sipping her white wine, she wondered why she came at all. Kingsley had invited her and she couldn’t say no to him, but with how the day turned out, she didn’t feel much like celebrating.

 

She perused the guests present, picking out those she recognized.

 

A couple swept by and Hermione knew them immediately; Ginny Weasley-Thomas and Dean Thomas; couldn’t mistake that red hair. Harry and Mills. Neville and Hannah. Draco Malfoy and someone Hermione didn’t recognize; one of those roman goddesses who ate only once per week. She thought he probably saved a ton of Galleons not feeding the witch.

 

The tall blond felt her staring and turned his head to meet her gaze. Draco smiled and let his eyes roam her form.

 

Hermione blushed then realized he probably didn’t recognize her.

 

She was startled out of her identity game by a deep voice. “Hello, beautiful.”

 

Bill.

 

“Hello, Bill.”

 

“You recognize me?” he asked and she could hear the smile on his face though she hadn’t looked at him.

 

He’d called her beautiful for years. It was a bone of contention between Fleur and he; Hermione’d over heard them argue once.

 

“Would you care to dance?” he asked.

 

Hermione pursed her lips. “Not really. Just not in the mood. How’s Fleur?”

 

Bill sighed in response. “Out flirting with some hapless gent, I s’pose.”

 

Hermione turned to face him. “Everything alright?”

 

They looked at each other for a moment through the eyelets of their masks before he answered.

 

“She says I’m emotionally unavailable.”   It was a simple statement, but poignant. His disappointment and perceived failure was palpable.

 

Hermione’s head tilted and she felt tears burn in her eyes in sympathy. She definitely felt his pain. She opened her mouth to console him, but he continued speaking. “I try, Hermione. I love her, more than anything, but she never seems happy.”

 

Hermione pulled him deeper into the cove for more privacy. A shadow moved with them without revealing their identity. It was of the utmost importance that the shadow heard the rest of the conversation.

 

The Shadow could hear the words conveying Bill’s fears and anxiety at hurting her. She could hear Hermione’s shushed words of encouragement and comfort. Though the two heads were bent together as if in a lovers scene, she understood that Hermione Granger and Bill Weasley were not lovers nor would they ever be; they were friends and had been since before the war.

 

Their quiet whispers and close proximity led a crying shadow to glide out of the corner to face the two.

 

“Fleur?” Bill asked, tensing.

 

Hermione stood, swallowing, ready to be blamed for the collapse of their marriage. What came next was a surprise to them both. “Bill, zorry… Je suis tellement desole.”

 

Bill’s eyebrows rose. “Quese-ce? Pourquoi?” { _What? Why_?}

 

“I love you, Bill. I am not afraid of ze… ze wolf.” Fleur took a deep calming breath. “S’il vous plait, montrez moi.” { _Please, show me_.}

 

Bill shook his head. “What if I hurt you? What if something happens that you can’t forgive?” he asked. His voice was strained and he looked as if he were in physical pain at the thought of harming a hair on her head.

 

The depth of emotion and raw desire between Bill and Fleur had Hermione rooted to her spot.

 

She wasn’t sure if she should back out slowly and leave the two to a scandalous night in the cove of a ballroom filled with Ministry employees and war heroes, or watch. The decision was made for her when Fleur turned to her and smiled.

 

“’Ermione, I know our ‘iztory ‘as not been as pleasant as it should have been, but please acczept my ‘and in friendship now. Thank you for being a confidant to my ‘uzband. I know now zat you and Billy were friendz and not loverz. I’ve been zo… zo… erm, how you zay – bête?”

 

“Stupid?” Hermione asked, hoping that the beautiful witch in front of her didn’t get offended at her candor.

 

Fleur smiled. “Yes, ztupid.”

 

Hermione was even more shocked when the refined blonde witch embraced her tightly. All of the pent up emotion from the day, the week, the years since she was eleven came pouring out in the returning hug and tears of appreciation. Fleur didn’t pull away or tense, she hugged Hermione tighter and spoke comforting words into her hair.

 

After a moment, Hermione stepped back, apologizing, and noticing that Bill had left the two witches alone. “I’m sorry. I don’t know-“

 

“Iz fine, chere. Where eez your beau, ‘Ermione?”

 

“We broke up. He’s not happy!” More crying.

 

Fleur conjured two comfortable chairs out of the greenery located near them. The girls sat, talking and listening. Hermione mostly, about her hang ups, her love life, her need to prove herself and lastly how Theo had made her feel.

 

Hermione told Fleur about the documents Theo’s solicitor had sent confirming the trust accounts Theo had established for Hermione and whatever children she bore him in the future. Hermione recounted the price of the cottage in Winchester about which Theo had inquired in Hermione’s name.

 

“I’m being prepped as a mistress; I guess I’m not good enough to marry.”

 

Fleur didn’t know what to say to that, though she was certain that Hermione had read things incorrectly. She did acknowledge that Theo’s actions were contrary to pureblood tradition, but this was a new time. Pureblood heirs didn’t have to follow the old ways anymore. Fleur thought that perhaps Theo was moving slowly for Hermione’s sake. Muggle-borns did things differently and purebloods had to act differently if they wanted to make a life with a Muggle-born witch or wizard.

 

Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice rang out clearly throughout the ballroom, alerting the witches to midnight nearing. Fleur looked around for her husband, but wasn’t ready to abandon Hermione just yet.

 

“It’s okay, Fleur, go. I’ll be fine. Really.”

 

“We’ll ‘ave lunch, yes?”

 

Hermione smiled and nodded. “Of course and thank you.”

 

Fleur squeezed her hand and then was off to ‘unmask’.

 

Hermione sat for a moment watching the couples find each other with smiles on their faces.

 

“What a beautiful picture you make, My Lady.”

 

Hermione turned to the familiar voice and smiled. “Mr. Malfoy, you look handsome as the devil himself,” she complimented, teasing.

 

He offered her a charming and completely consuming smile. “I’ve been waiting to find you alone and it seems my patience has been rewarded. Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a command; one which she obeyed immediately. She was flattered down to her toes.

 

(*)

 

“Oh dear,” Blaise said.

 

Theo downed his drink and faced his tacky-masked friend. “Oh dear what? One of your boy toys mismatched?”

 

Blaise sneered at Theo and then jutted his chin to the dance floor. “Seems you have some competition.”

 

In what seemed like slow motion, Theo turned to watch Lucius ‘on-my-God-yes’ Malfoy dancing with his witch! He heard Draco groan in dismay.

 

“Theo, mate, I know you want to handle things on your own, but I cannot keep my counsel on this one. If you don’t take what’s yours tonight, then I will gladly encourage father to do so. He recognizes a good witch when he sees one and Hermione Granger is a fine example of a witch.”

 

Draco’s lilt of the word ‘fine’ was a little too much for Theo to bear at the moment. “What do you mean by ‘fine example’, Draco?”

 

Draco set his drink down and squared his shoulders. “It means that Hermione has it all; loyalty, beauty, kindness, her own vault, independence… not to mention the finest arse this side of The Nile. Why would you not beg her to marry you?”

 

Blaise snickered. “Draco, you sound like you have a crush.”

 

Draco met the ocean blue eyes of one of his best mates. “I do and if it weren’t for Theo threatening to kill me should I step one toe out of line regarding Hermione, she would have been mine long ago.”

 

(*)

 

The dance ended with a gentlemanly bow from Lucius and a dinner invitation to which Hermione declined, but proposed a friendly lunch instead. Dinner was a bit too intimate at the moment.

 

(*)

 

A beautiful witch wearing purple velvet stepped beside Theo and took his hand gently in hers. “Theo, a dance?” Elizabeth asked.

 

Theo looked at his mum and noted how pretty she looked. He quirked his lips in an upward motion, and nodded before bowing formally. “Of course, madam.”

 

As he placed his hand at the small of her back, she looked up at him. “Forgive me for my topic of discussion, but I must endeavor to make you see clearly.”

 

“Mother?”

 

She closed her eyes and then opened them and what he saw in them was concern, and frustration.

“You’re acting like your father.”

 

He stumbled slightly, but caught himself. “What?”

 

“I’ve done some research – I was quite talented at digging out information during school – anyway, I’ve put those skills to use on you, and what I found was the complete disrespect of Hermione Granger. Answer me Theo, are you ashamed of her?”

 

“What?”

 

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Am I speaking English, dear? Are you ashamed of Miss Granger?”

 

“N-no!”

 

“Good, then you must fix this. Your father treated his mistresses well, but they were his mistresses and not his wife. They were set up with small spending accounts, places to live etc, but they were never his wife – they were his secrets. It was an insult to them, to me, and to our family. Don’t follow the same path; you’re better than he is.”

 

The song ended and she kissed his cheek. Before he was able to respond, his mother was gone from sight and he was left to absorb what she said.

 

It didn’t take him long.

 

(*)

 

Hermione felt both happy and sad. Sighing, she stood ready to give her good-nights to her friend’s then leave, but she was stopped by a tall figure in a Phantom of the Opera mask.

 

“Don’t go,” he said.

 

New tears slipped down her cheeks. “Theo,” she whispered.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said still grasping her wrist.

 

“I’m sorry too,” she replied thinking he was saying goodbye.

 

His grip tightened. “No, not that kind of sorry. I’m sorry… for everything. I never meant to make you feel anything less than …than a treasured gem.”

 

Hermione had always told Harry that his girlfriends were not mind readers and unless he told them what he wanted, they wouldn’t know. She took that moment to practice what she preached.

 

“Theo, I saw your solicitor’s confirmation documentation. I know you set up accounts for me. I know you wanted to buy a home for me; and I appreciate your desire to keep me around and that you’re open to me having your children, but I’m better than that. I deserve to have a man that calls me wife. I deserve a partner who’s proud of me for who I am. I’m no one’s dirty little secret, Theo.” She said all this in an informative, but gentle tone. She wanted him to know how she felt not attack him.

 

She figured he just didn’t get it; but when she met his eyes and saw the smirk firmly placed on his lips, she clicked her jaw shut and shoved at him.

 

Surprise flickered in his eyes and he quickly put up his hands in surrender. “Wait!” Theo hissed and grabbed her shoulders roughly.

 

“I love you, damn it! I didn’t want to scare you off by proposing marriage three weeks into our relationship, because that’s how soon I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life by your side. You’re beautiful and smart and sexy and my whole world and I’ve been a fool.” He would have continued, but she stopped him.

 

“You don’t ever ask me to accompany you on any official event or any lunches with your mum. We’ve been together for three years and I’ve never even met the woman! Is it because you’re ashamed of me? Afraid my Muggle manners will offend her pureblood sensitivies?” Hermione was getting nasty now and she wasn’t sure she cared.

 

Theo’s hands squeezed harder and she winced. “I don’t think any of those things. I would take you anywhere at any time… Give me a chance to explain, won’t you? I have so much to tell you.”

 

“Why haven’t you told me before, Theo?”

 

His head dropped back and he sighed. “Because I was afraid that you would see me and realize that I’m flawed. I was afraid that you would realize that you deserve better.”

 

Hermione huffed. “So you took away my choice and didn’t tell me anything?” This made her angrier than her previous assumption of him thinking she wasn’t good enough to marry.

 

“What about me made you think that I wanted someone else making my decisions?!” she shouted.

 

Theo cringed and looked around. Luckily, everyone was busy either dancing or kissing or drinking and the music was playing loud, so her shouting hadn’t bothered anyone but him.

 

“Theo! I am talking to you!” she reminded.

 

He turned back to her and was caught breathless by her beauty. His lioness, standing ready for battle. He knew she loved him, but she wasn’t ready to just cave into him.

 

She was still ranting and raving, but he couldn’t hear her. He could only see the woman he loved. She was almost glowing in his eyes, though if logic had been with him, he would have acknowledged that it was probably the angry energy her magic was giving off.

 

“…And I don’t appreciate you just assuming that I would go along with-“

 

“Marry me, Hermione.”

 

Hermione’s mouth closed and opened a few times. Her eyes followed his smirking face- probably at finally shutting her up- sink as he kneeled in front of her and took her hand with one of his. With his other hand, he pulled a small velvet box from his trouser pocket and opened it with a whispered _Klup_.

 

“Hermione, I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me? …And meet my mother.”

 

Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. She was nodding before she said yes, but he waited until he heard her vocal agreement, which came out raspy, and then placed the ring on her finger.

 

Draco and Blaise had been watching the entire scene and the couple had ended up being forced to announce their engagement at the ball due to a ‘rumor’ being spread directly to the Minister of Magic. Anyone’s guess at who started the rumor.

 

(*)

 

The first time Hermione and Elizabeth met was at dinner by formal invite from the Nott matriarch. The elder embraced the younger immediately and there started a close relationship that lasted until Elizabeth’s death sixty years later.

 

The very next day, after meeting Hermione, Elizabeth arranged for a witches day in Muggle London. They ran into Evelyn Granger after Hermione had had her hair done and the ladies were on their way from a facial.

 

Evelyn had bumped into Hermione without recognizing her.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! How clumsy of me,” Evelyn cried. She turned to the dark haired woman, clearly the girls’ mother. “Your daughter is lovely-“

 

“Mother?” Hermione snapped. She couldn’t believe that her own mother didn’t recognize her.

 

Evelyn turned back and recognized the annoyed mannerisms of her own daughter. “Hermione?”

 

Hermione nodded then introduced the two ladies. “Mother, this is Elizabeth Nott. Elizabeth, my mother, Evelyn Granger.”

 

Evelyn sniffed. “Are you a …witch, too?” she whispered the word, but it was clearly stated with distaste.

 

Elizabeth raised her chin and looked down the nose at the other. “I am.”

 

Hermione didn’t want to sour the wonderful day, but she figured this was as good a time as any.

 

“Mother, I’m getting married. Lady Nott is my soon to be mother-in-law.”

 

Evelyn didn’t react; instead she appraised her daughter and nodded curtly. “Well, it seems engagement suits you. You look lovely. I’ll arrange for you to visit your cousin in Athens for your dress-“

 

“No, mother. Elizabeth will assist me with accoutrements of a traditional wizarding wedding. You may attend if you wish. Good day.” The ladies walked away leaving a slightly dazed Evelyn Granger.

(*)

Theo and Hermione were only children who weren’t sure if they wanted a large family or a small close knit group; what they got was a little of both.

 

In order of birth: Melania and Cranfield (twins), Antony, Cora, Pavo, and Elizabetha were all Slytherin. Farah was sorted into Ravenclaw and little Montrose, last, but never least, a Gryffindor.

****

**_The End._ **


End file.
